


Lunch and Conversation

by GremlinTheCorvax



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ambiguously Modern Setting, Coming Out, Enby Poland, FTM Hungary, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, no beta we die like prussia, please send help i have no idea what i'm doing, the author does not know how to tag, the author is going to travel back in time and kill whoever invented html i swear to god, the author is new to AO3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GremlinTheCorvax/pseuds/GremlinTheCorvax
Summary: Hungary comes out as trans.Platonic PolHun shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Belgium/Hungary (Hetalia), Hungary & Poland (Hetalia)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	Lunch and Conversation

Feliks had only good memories when it came to lunch with his best friend. Erzsébet was always so much fun to be around, especially when there was food involved. Going out to eat on meeting days was a tradition for them, stretching back to basically as soon as world meetings started happening. It was a normal, expected, looked forward-to part of a day filled with equal parts stress and boredom.  


But today, something was off. She’d eaten maybe a third of her food in the hour they’d been at the restaurant, and wasn’t making eye contact. She seemed nervous. _Why would she be nervous? It’s just me. We’ve eaten out, like, thousands of times._ Feliks downed the rest of his drink and sat back in his chair, watching Erzsébet pick at her food.  


“Hey, Erzsie, what’s up? You’re being all weird today.”  


She pushed her fork around her plate for another few moments before responding. “I… I have something to tell you. I probably should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t know how to-- I didn’t know how you would take it, and…” she trailed off, looking at a very interesting point on the table to her right.  


He frowned and leaned over, putting his hand over hers. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything. Is something wrong? Anything I can do?”  


“It’s…” She licked her lips and glared at the bit of table that had caught her attention. “I’m just worried about-- well, you know how… traditional our bosses can be sometimes, and I don’t really know how much of that affects how we think, and with everything that’s been going on at your place recently, I’m really just not sure what your thoughts would be on this whole subject.” Her gaze didn’t lift from the table, but at least turned in his direction. “I’m not worried about how you will see me as Feliks, you know?” Her voice was quiet enough that the couple at the next table wouldn’t hear. “I’m more worried about Poland.”  


Oh. Okay. That wasn’t too surprising, he guessed. He ran through a list of topics he and his boss had been disagreeing on lately in his head. One seemed to stick out, especially in relation to her.  


At her core, Erzsébet had always been a family person. Even though the very nature of their existence kept them from having a family in the traditional sense of the word, she had always cherished her relationships that could be taken that way. There was one reason why someone who had always longed for what could really be counted as a family would be so anxious in this context.  


“Erzsébet… are you pregnant?”  


Her head snapped up and-- yikes, that was the look she gave Gilbert when he was being an idiot, and Feliks did not like seeing it pointed at him. “What? No, I’m not pregnant! Feliks!”  


He threw his hands up in defense. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on with you, and, like, it would make sense? Would it make sense? I feel like it would make sense!”  


She squinted at him. “I don’t know if I can even _get_ pregnant. Can we--” her expression turned curious and a little disgusted. “Can we even reproduce? Children just kind of appear out of nowhere, don’t they?”  


“Didn’t Herakles and Gupta have moms, though? Sadiq and Yao, like, knew them, right?”  


“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they actually gave birth to them. I mean, I can think of at least four people who call Arthur dad, and they were all originally discovered by someone else.”  


“Sure, but still.” He leaned back. “I’ve seen drawings of Herakles’s mom, and he _really_ looks like her. Like, I’d believe she gave birth to him.”  


She dismissed the topic with a wave. “Okay, whatever. Even if we can reproduce normally, I’m dating Emma. How would I get pregnant?”  


“Oh.” He hadn’t thought of that. “So you aren’t pregnant.”  


“No.”  


“So then what were you going to tell me?”  


“I…” She exhaled slowly and looked back down at her plate. Feliks heard her mumble something behind her hair.  


“What was that?”  


“I’m transgender. I’m a guy.”  


“Oh, that’s it?” Erzsé-- what did he call him now?-- _Hungary_ looked back up at him, clearly taken aback. That probably wasn’t a usual reaction to people coming out. “I mean, you were a guy before, when we were kids, remember? It’s not that hard to, like, see you as a guy again.” He shrugged and looked across the table at his best friend. “So, what do you, like, want me to call you? Erzsébet isn’t exactly a guy’s name.”  


Hungary looked relieved. “Sandor. I think. I might change it later, I’m not too sure yet.”  


“‘Kay, cool. Sandor. I can do that.” Another thought struck him. “Aw, is girl time going to stop being girl time, then?” Feliks suspected the fact that they called their sparring with real, actual, sharpened swords _‘girl time’_ was the only thing keeping Gilbert from crashing the party. “Guy time? Ew, that sounds weird. Sounds like whatever Gil gets up to with his friends.”  


“It can still be girl time. We don’t have to be girls for it to be girl time.”  


“Still, I know calling it girl time was, like, a joke, but if it makes you feel--” _what’s the word?_ \-- “dysphoric, then…”  


“Really, Feliks, it’s fine. I don’t care. Besides, what would we start calling it anyway? We both know Gilbert will not hesitate to show up uninvited if we start calling it guy time.”  


He shrugged. “V4 time? Open it up to Janko and Libuška if they want to blow off some steam?”  


Sandor just smiled and shook his head. “Girl time is _fine._ Besides, I personally can’t imagine Janko holding a sword in this day and age.”  


They both laughed at the thought of Slovakia picking up a sword again after so many centuries for a moment, and the conversation turned to lighter topics as they paid for their food and started heading back to the meeting hall. Familiar voices reached them from further down the street, and Feliks looked up to see Belgium and Luxembourg walking together, in the middle of what looked like an intense debate. Oh, right, that was a question he’d been wanting to ask.  


“So, does Emma know? About…” He waved vaguely in Sandor’s direction and hoped he knew what Feliks was trying to ask.  


“Oh. No.” He looked down guiltily. “I haven’t told her yet. You’re actually the first person I’ve, um, came out to.”  


“Ooh. Are you going to tell her?” Emma was understanding. Feliks knew she wouldn’t break up with Sandor over something like this. Probably. He hoped so. He didn’t actually know her that well, but from what he’d heard and the brief conversations they’d had, she didn’t seem like that type of person.  


“I mean…” He was fidgeting with his hair, a nervous habit Feliks was almost certain he’d picked up from Tolys somehow. “I don’t know how I wouldn’t. This is kind of big, and she deserves to know. I just don’t really know how to start that conversation.”  


“You could always just, like, tell her I’m being a pain in the ass about it.” It was half a joke, but he was pretty certain it’d actually work. “You know, you could be, like, ‘hey, I have this thing that I don’t really know how to tell you, but I told Feliks and now he, like, won’t shut up until I tell you,’ and then she’ll be all, like--” he dropped his voice into a horrible approximation of a French accent-- “‘oh, what’s going on, you know you can talk to me!’”  


Sandor snorted. “Really?”  


“Do you mean the plan, or the accent?”  


“More the accent. Is that really-- that’s not what she sounds like, is it?”  


“I don’t know. She’s, like, kind of French, right? Isn’t Belgium kind of French? Do they speak French in Belgium?”  


“That was supposed to be French?”  


Feliks swatted his arm. “Oh, fuck you! The amount of disrespect here is--” he shook his head in mock offense. Sandor laughed at him.  


“You know what, that’ll work,” he said as they reached the building where the meeting had been and made their way to the elevator. “I can tell her ‘hey, I told my best friend about this and now he won’t shut the fuck up until I tell you,’ and then just go from there.”  


Feliks laughed, but something about what he had said didn’t sit right.  


_He._  


Hmm.  


Sandor gave him a weird look as the elevator started to move. “Are you okay?”  


“Yeah, just, something you said got me thinking.” Feliks stared at the control panel. What was making him feel weird about this? “He…” He leaned back against the wall and thought, ignoring Sandor’s increasingly confused looks. At least there wasn’t anyone else in the elevator to watch him lose his mind.  


Feliks narrowed his eyes at the door. “He. He is Feliks. His name is Feliks. He is…” It didn’t feel _wrong,_ per say, but it didn’t feel quite _right._ “He is… they. Their name is Feliks. They are--” Feliks slapped a hand over his-- their?-- mouth. “Oh _shit._ ” Sandor’s eyebrows were attempting to escape into his hair as he watched them smother giggles behind their palm. “Oh my god-- I can’t wait to see the look on Andrzej’s face, oh, he is _not_ going to be happy.”  


Sandor didn’t exactly look shocked, but concerned. “I can’t say this doesn’t make sense, but…” he put a hand to his chest. “Something _I_ said got you thinking about this? On the same day-- the same hour I came out to you? Did I cause this?”  


Feliks dissolved into uncontrollable giggling. “It’s contagious. We shall spread the blight throughout all of Eastern Europe.”  


“This is too much power for one person to hold.” He shook his head and looked down at Feliks, who had slid down the wall and was now sitting on the floor. “So. It seems like you want to be called a they?”  


He-- _they?_ \-- shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, sure, but like… _he_ feels normal too? Maybe it’s just been the hundreds of years of being called that, but I don’t really mind.”  


“Okay. Well.” Sandor patted the top of their head. “Think about it for a bit, then. Get back to me on that.”  


“Totally.” The elevator doors slid open as they reached the basement floor, and the two stepped out, Feliks nudging Sandor in the direction of the Benelux he saw standing off to the side. “You, like, go talk to Emma or something, and I’ll go ponder my existence until Lud starts yelling.”  


Sandor groaned. “I don’t know if I have it in me to tell her right now.”  


“So? She’s still your girlfriend. People still talk to their girlfriends when they aren’t revealing secrets, don’t they?”  


As if on cue, Emma’s voice called out, “Erzsébet!” They both looked to see her waving Sandor over.  


Feliks wandered off to their seat as Sandor disappeared into the frankly incomprehensible social circles of Western Europe, looking over their notes from that morning. Something about economies and the Olympics, with a surprisingly detailed horse they didn’t remember drawing in the margins. They flipped to a blank page, checked the time, and sighed. At least ten more minutes before Ludwig corralled the last stragglers back into the room and got things going again.  


They had a lot to think about in the meantime.

**Author's Note:**

> not me projecting my gender issues onto fictional characters instead of dealing with them myself,,,,,
> 
> i wrote most of this really late at night while attempting to do homework at the same time and i am very sorry


End file.
